


It's Okay

by backwardsandastray



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, courferre, cute little combeferre, cute little courfeyrac, more characters will be added, music AU kinda i guess, some anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwardsandastray/pseuds/backwardsandastray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre and Courfeyrac have always been inseperable...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When We Were Children

      _Stupid, stupid, stupid..._ the little boy rehearsed in his head; little fists clenching and nails scratching at his palms. The bow in his hand felt heavier than his eight year old heart.  _Have to get it right this time, have to or I'll never be good enough, why can't I do this, I want to go home..._ Ragged thoughts sprinted through his mind as he sat down and rested his back against the wall. Combeferre had been praticing for hours. He had violin lessons every friday, and they never ceased to aid in the progression of his anxiety. He was required to play three octaves of every major and minor scale, and although he had been working so hard, his fingers seemed to move against his will. He rested his violin on his boney knees and flexed each finger, laying them flat on the ground beside him.

 _Deep breaths, don't cry, you'll do fine..._ He listened to the sounds echoing around the studio, relating animals to each instrumental voice. The piano in the next room began to play Chopin as the clarinet player across the hall finished a B minor scale. He wished he were home, spending the time memorizing the way the moths outside his window fluttered against the old glass. His fingers twitched in anticipation of home. His practice time was to end in twenty minutes, and the next day he would play these scales. He still kept mucking up D flat major. He thought of the disappointed looks he would surely recieve from his teacher, the amount of time he would then have to spend repeating the same notes over and over again until his stubby fingers could no longer react accordingly. 

Combeferre carefully stood as the door began to open, revealing a tangled mess of dark curls clutching a viola case to his chest. The dark haired boy's eyes widened as he noticed the the violin player, carefully closing the door behind him as he stared curiously around the room. Dark hair tumbled in front of his eyes as he cocked his head to study the the boy in the corner.

"Why are you crying?" The newcomer asked. Combeferre could tell immediately that he was not being patronized by the intruder, for he seemed genuinely concerned. Combeferre's hand reflexively rub at his eyes as he realized the streams of salt water running down his cheeks.

"Sorry, I forgot about the time." The violinist muttered softly as he hastily reached for his music and stand. As he lunged to grab the sheets of paper across from him, he felt his shoe catch on the end of the ugly green carpet that blanketed the studio. The sheets of paper cascaded and fluttered around him as he fell, making a mess of his emaculately organized music. Combeferre looked at the pages of white surrounding him, and shut his eyes as tears of frustration ran down his cheeks.  _Everything is going wrong, I'm going to fail, I can't fail, please, I want to go home..._

 _  
_"What happened?" The viola player asked as he sat down beside Combeferre, taking the violinists aching fingers and holding them tight. The brunette smiled when he noticed the other boy's expression. "My fingers sometimes hurt after playing for a really long time, so I get my mommy to make them feel better and so she does this." He sighed as he ran his chubby thumb along each of the blonde's fingers. "Why are you sad?"

"I can't get my scales right."

"Which ones?"

"All of them."

"That's okay. Sometimes I can't play right either, but it's okay because even my teacher messes up. What's your name?"

"Combeferre." The blonde smiled when the other boy giggled at his name.

"We both have weird names! I'm Courfeyrac. I play viola." Courfeyrac reached behind him in order to drag his intrument over his lap.

"It's nice to meet you Courfeyrac." Combeferre nearly whispered. He was always shy around kids his age.

"You too Combeferre. Now," The brunette stood and offered his hand to the other boy. "since we're friends, I'm gonna play some scales with you and we can help each other."

"But you play viola. I don't know how to read alto clef..." Combeferre hugged his violin closer to his tummy, and stared at the music resting by his toes. 

"I'll teach you! Don't worry, it's not super hard. Besides, you don't need to know it to play scales." Courfeyrac fixed his shoulder rest and lifted his intrument into position.

"Which one should we play first?" Combeferre smiled to himself as he raised his bow and violin, making an effort to keep his face from going rosey.

"D falt major. I'm not very good at it yet." 

After thirty minutes of playing with his new friend, Combeferre could feel himself relaxing; his fingers were no longer as stiff as twigs. When Courfeyrac's mother came to pick the boy up, Combeferre found himself crushed between two tiny arms as a nest of dark curls tickled his chin.

"Thank you." He whispered as he wrapped his arms around the shorter boy.

"We are gonna be really good friends, I can tell." Courfeyrac grinned as he walked out the door, mother in tow. 

 _Everything is going to be fine..._ Combeferre smiled once more as he cleaned up the scattered sheet music, wondering why he ever worried in the first place.


	2. Games

"Enjolras! You can't do that, you're cheating!" Courfeyrac cried out from his place behind the TV. They had been playing hide-and-go-seek for two hours, and quite frankly, Combeferre was tired of sitting in the dusty spots behind old furniture. He had yet to be found this round; he was always found last anyways.

Courfeyrac had invited Combeferre and Enjolras over for their weekly get-together; it was a long weekend, so Combeferre's parents agreed to a sleepover as well. However, Enjolras was unlucky in that he had a gymnastics tournament the next day and therefore couldn't risk the possibility of very little sleep. Combeferre toyed with his glasses behind his spot behind the curtains in Courfeyrac's living room, then peeked out from behind the fabric to view the situation. Enjolras stood tall in front of the brunette, his arms crossed and long hair pulled back in a ponytail. 

"There aren't any rules against it! You're just mad cause you have to be the seeker now." Enjolras stated triumphantly, walking towards the couch. Enjolras had begun counting correcly but dramatically sped up as soon as he hit 15 seconds, hence Courfeyrac's latest outburst. Combeferre sighed into the white cotton tickling his nose, and removed himself from his hiding spot. His friends both shot him pleading looks, for it appeared to be his turn to judge the situation once again. 

"He's right Enjolras. Even though there aren't any rules against it, it doesn't mean it's fair." Combeferre smiled apologetically while Courfeyrac cheered from his cross legged position against the wall.

"Fine. Can we play a different game? I don't wanna play this anymore, it's dumb." Enjolras pouted and pulled on his ponytail while Courfeyrac ran upstairs to get his parents' Monopoly game. 

"It's okay to not win sometimes, Enjolras." Combeferre smiled and rested his hand upon his friend's shoulder. Though Enjolras had a healthy love of competition, he had a deep hatred of the word "average" ingrained in his 12 year old mind. Combeferre knew exactly when Enjolras felt less than adequate, for he tended to react the same way. They both knew that "good" was not good enough; the world is only ever moved by absolute greatness. 

"Do you wanna play Monopoly? You and Combeferre are really good at math, so I think you'll win." Courfeyrac grinned as he offered the box to Enjolras. Enjolras' lips curved upwards as the smallest of his friends flung himself onto the couch opposite him. Combeferre happily agreed to be the banker when both his friends groaned at the thought of math. 

After two quick games of Monopoly (quick because Enjolras and Courfeyrac seemed to be fans of the "go big or go home" approach and both went bankrupt at around the same time) Enjolras' parents picked him up, leaving the other two boys to clean up the disorganised money and cards. After sneaking the box back up to his parents' room, raced to his room and flopped down on his bed.

"Feeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrre c'mere, I'm in my roooooooooooooooooooom." The smaller boy yelled towards his door. Courfeyrac loved his friends with a passion that seemed to explode from his every limb. He could tell Enjolras was a little uncomfortable when they first met (especially when Courfeyrac told him they were going to be best friends forever), but his passion was like a hot bath; it takes a while to get used to, but once your in, you never want out. The three of them became inseperable; always sitting together in class, eating lunch together, going out together... and Courfeyrac wouldn't have it any other way. His friendship with Combeferre and Enjolras was what made him happy in the early morning and and late at night, for he knew he would get to see them both the next day. Their friendship was absolute, perhaps a pillar in the life of Courfeyrac. He would rather be taken out by a pack of zombies then have to go the rest of his life without them.

"Courfeyrac, you'll wake up your sister." Combeferre quietly warned as he tiptoed into the messy space. 

"She can't hear me, she's sleeping."

"That doesn't mean she can't hear you, Courf."

"She sleeps like the dead, I swear." Combeferre smiled at the comparison as he sat down parralel to the smaller boy. 

"Still, we should try to be quiet." Courfeyrac reluctantly agreed as he flipped over onto his back. They stayed there for a while, staring at each other as if they could pick apart the other's thoughts if they tried hard enough. Slowly, Courfeyrac lifted himself onto his elbows, grinning wildly at the blond. Courfeyrac would never admit he liked a friend more than the other, but Combeferre was his oldest and dearest friend. The day they met in the music studio was the day Courfeyrac stopped crying so much. He'd never had a friend who could be with him for more than three hours, let alone three days. The sight of his messy blonde hair and warm brown eyes did nice things to his heart. Combeferre was his favourite, though he would never say it. 

"Are you ticklish?" Courfeyrac whispered, licking his lips in anticipation for the upcoming brawl. Combeferre's face went blank; eroding any hint of truth or lie.

"No." He whispered in reply, though the words seemed to be forced off his tongue. If Courfeyrac didn't know the other boy so well he would've accepted the answer easily enough, but the simple twitch of a blond eyebrow proved him right.

"You're a liar."

"No, I'm not!" The air was suddenly pushed out of Combeferre's lungs as Courfeyrac pounced onto the other boy's stomach, his hands tickling the blond's sides with excitement. Combeferre let out a string of giggles as he tried to escape from his friend's grasp, but was held in place by the other boy's legs on either side of him. He tried rolling over in order to push the other boy off the bed, but was greeted by a cloud of dark curly hair and a smiling red face. He noticed the lack of freckles and various details on the boy's face and immediately pushed himself up and onto the brunette. He was seated on Courfeyracs legs as he immobilized the boy's arms.

"Give me my glasses back." Combeferre was breathing heavily trying hard not to grin at his best friend.

"No. You lied." Courfeyrac smugly retorted.

"Courfeyrac."

"Combeferre."

"This isn't fair, you know I can't see things without my glasses." Courfeyrac tried in vain to wiggle his way out from under the blond. After Courfeyrac refused to reveal the glasses, Combeferre sighed exasperatedly, and turned his head away from the viola player as he flopped down beside him. 

"I'm not talking to you until you give me my glasses back." He muttered into the pilow. A few moments later, he felt fingers brushing through his hair, gently untangling the knots created from the sudden tickle fight. His breath hitched as the hand moved to his back, rubbing long and steady circles along his spine. His heart felt warm and heavy, as it always did when Courfeyrac was around. Combeferre remembered feeling the same thing when he first met the boy. Courfeyrac was an overwhelming comfort, perhaps more of an indulgence. He couldn't help comparing him to the smell of newly baked bread. The violinist hummed quietly as the other boy hugged him from behind.

"I'm sorry." A tiny voice whispered between his shoulder blades. His heart broke a little bit upon hearing the sadness in his friend; it was something rare and something he never wanted to experience again.

"It's okay. Can I have my glasses back please?" He shivered at the loss of Courfeyrac's arm around him, but was immediately relieved as his friend place the glasses back on his face. Combeferre rolled over and felt his heart flutter ever so slightly when the other boy buried his head in the blond's shoulder.

"I didn't mean to make you mad, Ferre. Sorry." Courfeyrac's muffled voice made Combeferre want to cry.

"You didn't make me mad, I just don't like not being able to see. It's okay." 

"We're still best friends right?"

"Always."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are greatly appreciated! Next chapter should be up soon enough :)

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are greatly appreciated! There will be more chapters...


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